


I Let You Down

by Murdochs



Series: Solaris' Cradle [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Fem!Severus Snape, Gender or Sex Swap, Mentions of Character Death, Pre-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murdochs/pseuds/Murdochs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Lily and James," Her attention snaps to the old man, though she keeps her eyes trained on her trembling hands; she wouldn't be able to see much if she did look- he's hunched in front of the window, and the moonlight streams around him in a way that blurs any discerning features. "Lily and James chose to trust the wrong person, Severa. Not unlike-"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>"Dont. Don't go there, Albus."<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Let You Down

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, then! Just a quick little prequel thingy, something I've been working on rather than the part two I _wanted ___to do, because Muse One decided to leave me high and dry, while Muse Two decided Vacation week was over and done with.
> 
>  
> 
> _NOTE:: I do not own Harry Potter. Things you recognise are the creation of the author, things you don't are probably also property of JK Rowling._

_Friday 29 February, 1980~_

Severa's arm tingles unpleasantly where the Mark, still new enough to be red with irritation, stares up at her in open mocking. With a snarl she tugs at the hem of her sleeve until it covers the blemish, reaching for and swilling a mouthful Goblin's Reserve straight from the bottle in one, well-practiced motion.

She'd gone to that seedy little pub in the village- the Hog's Head or something- searching for the Headmaster, to discuss the terms of her arrangement. Upon the start of her contract with the school- just the start of this very month, February- she'd been gifted with quarters in the dungeons, despite the fact that she'd not start teaching until the Fall term. They were Dark and Dank and Dreary, though to be fair that's something people probably thought of her often enough, and they stank of mould and decay no matter Sev's attempts to abate it with scented oils or ridiculous potions. The attached office- which was by default attached to the classroom that would eventually be her own- and the private lab were a perk, but a small one, and reeked of Dung bombs from a prank (courtesy of James stupid bloody Potter) long past. Smelly quarters just would not do; so, it was with a heavy scowl set deeply on her face that she left the castle on the twenty-fifth of February, curled beneath two of her heaviest winter cloaks to guard against the ever-present chill, in search of Professor Dumbledore to discuss moving to a better scented area of the castle, or fumigating her own rooms.

The man keeping the bar, short and equally as white in the hair as her employer, offered a curt nod to Severa as she entered, raising a bottle of Ogden's Finest Fire Whiskey in question. Severa grimaced, regretfully shaking her head in the negative; she'd had to switch to the non-alcoholic choice of Goblin's Reserve three weeks ago, and right now she wanted nothing more than to sit in the darkest corner of the seedy little pub coiled around the whiskey like it was her own life's blood.

"Goblin's Reserve, if you've got it," the steel in her voice coupled with a particularly icy glare ensured that the man would keep his gaze firmly away from her midsection. There was only one reason that anyone other than students drank the stuff- the flavor itself wasn't too bad, but it offered intoxication from a complicated layer of charms work and often left something to be desired come morning- and for witches who were known to be over their majority to ask for it only meant one thing.

The barman set a glass- slightly dusty, but clean enough- and a half-empty bottle of the wine on the counter top, and had only tilted his head to a table cloaked in shadows before turning to disappear into the back store room.

Albus Dumbledore is obviously not in this shoddy little pub; Severa should leave her drink and go on to Madame Puddifoot's- oh, how she loathes that woman and her tea shop- or to the Three Broomsticks, the more popular of the public gathering places in town, for a quick check. Dumbledore is more likely to be there than in this pitiful excuse for a rat trap-

She sips at her wine delicately, pretending as if she doesn't care a mite for the search she's let fall flat. It's not as if it matters anyway, she can surely get one of the House Elves to move her belongings to one of the rooms in the East Wing- perhaps the fifth floor would be nice, and the rooms are surely spacious enough for her... expanding interests? Dumbledore certainly wouldn't mind; she won't be able to keep It a secret for more than another fortnight at most, and the castle hasn't been filled to capacity since before it'd been converted to hold a school (which hadn't taken much, she knew, just some simple planning and a bit of spelling here and there). No; if anything the dotty fool will be pleased when she asks to move quarters.

Severa drains the last of her drink, setting the glass on the table as she stands- wobbling slightly- and adjusts her robes. Albus isn't going to find himself, and she's stopped long enough to think about her lonely future as a damned woman-

"-The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,"

Severa freezes as a voice, cold and unfamiliar but loud enough to grab her attention, filters through the empty pub from an open door.

"Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the ~enth month dies,"

Severa's blood runs cold at the sound of those words, and she doesn't stay to hear the end of the prophecy. She instead trips and scrambles her way out of the Hog's Head, spilling the rest of the wine on the lower hem of her cloak in the process, and practically runs to the Apparition point on the outskirts of the village.

A simple tap of her Mark with the tip of her wand lead her where she needed to go.  
**

__

_Saturday 31 October, 1981~ ___

"You told me," she shudders. _Inhale._ "You _promised_ me you would keep them safe."

The man standing opposite her, moon-gazing through the window and kept separate from the room's other occupant by the desk, says nothing. Or he might- Severa can't be fucked to care.

"Why didn't- the plan should have worked! Everything else, every detail and contingency was planned for and considered- why didn't you foresee this?"

Severa huffs angrily for a moment, too overwhelmed with grief to see much beyond the edges of a five-foot radius. Blood rushes noisily in her ears, a never ending torrent that's begun to sound uncannily like murderer, murderer, murderer.

Ha.

"Lily and James," Her attention snaps to the old man, though she keeps her eyes trained on her trembling hands; she wouldn't be able to see much if she did look- he's hunched in front of the window, pale moonlight streaming around him to blanket and blur any discernable features. "Lily and James chose to place their trust in the wrong person, Severa. Not unlike-"

"Don't. Don't go there, Albus."

There is silence or a moment, chilling and heavy and suffocating, broken only by Severa's ragged breathing; she imagines it's because Dumbledore is a man who is quite unused to being interrupted in such a manner.

"The children live." She nods halfheartedly, hardly bothering to pay attention to Dumbledore's reminder. "They will need protection-"

"Protection?" Severa sneers, her throat and eyes so raw from crying that the words emerge a raspy growl. "What should they need protecting from, Albus- the Dark Lord is dead, gone, finished, and I don't think he'll be too keen to show his face so soon after getting his arse handed to him by a pair of infants." Thankfully, the Headmaster forgoes admonishing Severa's choice words in favour of continuing to explain in an infuriatingly calm tone of voice.

"The Dark Lord will return," From anyone else, Severa would think the words were the promise of an impending uprising. From the old man they sound wary. "He will return, and when he does, the children will face a danger more great and terrible than they faced tonight- but until then they need to be watched, carefully. The Death Eaters have not all fled to cover; should anyone take it upon themselves to-"

"I understand." Severa pales at the thought of Mulciber or Crouch or- Merlin forbid it- Bellatrix getting wind of the child's situation.

"There is a way to help, Severa. To make this right."

Dumbledore speaks softly enough Severa might've considered it a whisper but for the fact it's gone screaming, resonating harshly, through the forefront of her mind. He needn't even clarify; it's the same offer he'd offered her the night she delivered the Prophecy to the Dark Lord, the offer to turn coat and make a difference and save people.

Only now does it sound at all appealing.

"I- if I do this, Albus, if I do this... no one can know."

Headmaster Dumbledore nods sagely, turning his face to Severa for the first time since her delivery of the news of Lily and James' death. "Naturally."

"No, it's-" She sighs tiredly, shoving her fingers roughly through a snarl in her hair that's grown tacky with an as-yet unidentified substance. "I will not be able to help him. I cannot show any favour to him when he arrives, unless he is by some miracle Sorted into my own House. I will not have the boy put in danger because of me; I will not allow you to put him into danger because of me.

"Promise me that, Albus."

"What of the girl?"

"Is there any question of her placement in my House?"

The man turns fully, then, to face her, fixing the woman- _young, so young, her oldest students are nearly her age_ \- to her seat with a piercing blue gaze. He looks old, and logically Severa knows that Albus Dumbledore _is _old, but she's never quite appreciated just how long the man's lived until just now.__

"I swear it, Severa."

**Author's Note:**

> ... Aaaand, thirteen hundred words later, here you are! Comments/ suggestions/ questions always welcome!
> 
> ;; EDITED AS OF JUNE TENTH, 2015;;


End file.
